


Salvage What is Left

by Lidsworth



Series: Salvage What is Left [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki broke half of Ayato’s body, so in return, Ayato breaks all of Kaneki’s heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvage What is Left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prismpuffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prismpuffin/gifts).



> I finally decided to post it on ao3.  
> Warnings: Mature audience only.
> 
> graphic, mentions of non-con, graphic torture, and violence, explicit ( potential spelling errors…i proofread but I always miss things) This is going to be a pretty bad…as the HC was already kinda m-rated (  
> I changed a few things about it though.) But there will be a kinda happy ending! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this prismpuffin! Sorry it took so long!

Ayato retreated to the restroom at the sound of the blond rebuckling his pants—or what was left of them. He could hear the man shuffling through the  ruins of his makeshift room, and eventually collapsing back onto the bed after he’d bypassed the chains that Ayato had previously used to keep him locked up and stationary.

Though even with the lack of restriction, Ayato doubted  that he had any physical energy left to try and escape. He’d been starved to the brink of death, only given enough water to survive,  subjected to horrendous sessions of physical torture—in fact, he’d just recovered from one—so the chance of escape was very small.

 

And even if he did manage to escape, where would he go? Ayato had taken him to an old Aogiri hideout. If he managed to get out, he was going nowhere. Hell, he couldn’t walk properly anymore, let alone walk enough to escape. Not if shredded tendons, torn anal muscles, and twisted legs had anything to say about it.

 

Ayato had destroyed his body. He’d destroyed it to the point of no return. He’d destroyed the human’s body so much, that he’d never be the same again, ever.

 

And it had been  _enticing._ The delicious taste of blood. The sensation of his ivory teeth slicing into flesh. The joy of reaping that which Kaneki owned.

 

He’d taken Hide. He’d  taken  _everything_ about him. Or so he’d thought.

 

He’d been shocked to discover that even after the body horror he’d been subjected to, Hide had still managed to crack unnecessary jokes about Ayato’s strength, or his size, or his appearance.

 

“I bet you Touka-chan would be really upset if she knew that her little brother  was acting like a jerk,” or, “For a creature who has six times the strength of a human, you’re pretty darn weak.”

 

And other insults that had no doubt resulted in another session of torture the next day, that as predicted, had the human screaming (Of course, most of the joking was during the first few days. He’d managed to put a lid on his potty mouth for the most part).

 

Though he never begged, he wasn’t Kaneki. He had his mind fortified.  It was like his anchor. His mental strength was amazing, stronger than any  _ghoul_  Ayato had ever encountered.

 

Hide had had his dignity stripped away from him, had had his body abused to the point of painlessness, and yet his mind still remained in tact—in tact enough to crack jokes.

 

Slamming the restroom door with enough force to rattle the near lonely establishment, Ayato marched towards the sink, and gruffly grabbed at the silver handle, turning it until a surge of cool water burst out of the faucet.

 

He wasn’t accomplishing what he’d put so much at stake to do. He’d been able to destroy his body, but his mind remained solid. There was no sense in Kaneki finding his injured friend, for him to be able to heal over time. No, he needed to  _break_ him.

 

“Ayato, we’re wasting our fucking time throwing him around like this, let’s just go before  _he_ finds us. You’ve done enough Ayato!” Snapped the man who leaned against the white walls in the restroom, practically blending in with the milky accent, “Let’s go!”

 

“Shut up Naki, I’ll do what I want!” Growled the ghoul, “Just get out of here and keep watch!”

  
He’d taken a few with him, Naki included. They all had their fair idea of torture, though when the others methods became repetitive and useless, he’d killed them out of agitation.

 

Naki groaned, “So Tatara can find us and consider us deserters?  We’re already in deep shit Ayato. Fuck, you already killed some of ours. Let’s leave, we’ve done enough, he can hardly walk anymore.”

 

“Just go!”

 

Narrowing his eyes, the ghoul  exited the restroom, “Fuck you Ayato, if we get punished because of you’re dumb-ass grudge, I’m going to kill you myself.”

 

“Tch” Outwardly, Ayato brushed off the crude warning with a splash of cool water to his face, though inwardly, he was burning hot. He needed to break Hide, all the way. Not just his body, but his soul. But  _how?_ He wasn’t like Kaneki, he wasn’t like his friend who’d lost his will to Yamori’s torture.

 

He was an enigma. He could process physical pain to the point of numbing himself, he could cancel out the torture he’d been put through by taking his mind other places, and he could finish it all with crude, self-esteem killing jokes.

 

A human should have been easy to break. A friend of Kaneki should have been easy to break. Perhaps he was using the wrong methods (but they were the  _best_ methods), perhaps he needed to look at his predecessors. Ayato only really knew how to kill, not how to torture.

 

Yamori…he’d only tagged Naki along because he believed he would  have some relocation of just what methods his “older brother” used to drive people insane. But he’d only succeeded in dragging a terrified, paranoid ghoul along with him.

 

So he tried to remember what methods Yamori used himself. Finger clipping, toe clipping (not that he would use that method, Hide’s fingers wouldn’t grow back, and he’d most likely die from blood loss)…he’d seen them all before, all in videos that Aogiri had managed to accumulate over the years. Why they kept them, Ayato hadn’t been certain, but he figured returning to them now would be a wise decision to make.

 

In fact, it was the very base that Ayato resided in that held their unused archives and records. Perhaps he could even find the video of Kaneki’s torture, maybe even make the blond watch it. To his understanding, Nagachika had done everything possible to assure Kaneki’s survival—looks like his torture with Yamori was one of his few fuck ups though.

 

It would be minuscule compared to what he’d already subjected Nagachika to, but it was his last resort. And plus, there was always something internally troubling about seeing a loved one suffering that struck anyone the wrong way. He’d felt it with Touka, even when it had been him who’d caused her suffering.

 

Looking at himself in the mirror, he nearly gasped at his ghastly appearance. Gaunt eyes, pale skin, stringy hair…this entire ordeal was killing him.

 

His drive to indirectly hurt Kankei was destroying him…but that’s what revenge did…

 

oooo

The room hadn’t been fashioned to accompany a king, thus the interior was quite bland, with stone walls, and stoned, tile floors. One source of light came from a dying bulb, which dangled from the top of the low ceiling, and the other,  from the sullen light that crept in through the glass-less window.

 

The bed hadn’t been made to accompany horrendous bouts of torture, nor had it been made to hold the blood and bodily fluids that had soaked the sheets. And alongside that, it hadn’t been built to provide a comfortable sleep to a dying man, it was made for prisoners.

 

Though, upon entering the room, Ayato was shocked to see the blond wedged underneath  the bloody sheets, somehow finding a way to relax, despite his obvious injuries.

 

Ragged breathing erupted from the bed, and the sound suggested that perhaps he'd sustained a punctured lung, or a something else amiss with the respiratory system. Though despite it all, he’d still find a way to brush off the pain. That, or he had become numb to it. 

 

The room had come equip with an outlet, and there, Ayato had connected an old, near broken television that he’d found in one of the storage rooms. With the sound of aged static, the machine came to life.

 

In his other hand was the old cassette. After clicking it into the slot provided, he glided towards the bed where the  broken figure lay sleeping.

 

“Wake up Nagachika, I have something I want you to see,” the response was an exaggerated groan from the injured party. Narrowing his eyes, Ayato tore the sheets off until he could see the glow of the blond head. After gripping a good amount of his thick hair, Ayato dragged him off of the bed, and threw him into the floor.

 

Had his bones been properly structured, a “crunching” noise would’ve erupted from the sudden impact, not the sound of liquefied solids smashing onto the floor. Though Hide seemed to be rather oblivious to the pain, partly because he was in so much pain.

 

“W…what’s up with the television? A-are we a-about to watch some of your…cartoons?” His voice was all but gone as a result of his screaming, though  the sardonic tone still held strong within the abused vocal chords.

 

Ayato worked the television and chuckled, “Defiantly my type of cartoons.”   
  
There was something about Ayato’s voice that suggested something was wrong, and that he may’ve finally gone completely bonkers at the revelation that no sort of physical pain he bestowed upon Hide could have a lasting effect.

 

How Hide had seen it, he had served his purpose, he’d brought Kaneki home—to safety. Granted, they weren’t supposed to fall in love, and a kid-ghoul who was full of vengeance wasn’t supposed to find them and disrupt their happy lives, but bad things happened, and Hide could accept that. Besides, Kaneki was safe.

 

And it wasn’t as if Ayato would kill him.  If he was, there would be no point in torturing him.

 

He wanted to break him, because in extension, that would be breaking Kaneki. And to be frank, he had broken his body, and more than once, Ayato had nearly broken Hide’s mind ( of course he would never admit that to the boy). The jokes had been his coping method.

 

But it would all be over soon, he could already tell that Ayato was running short on time, that perhaps, he wasn’t even supposed to be doing this.  The tension was evident, Hide could feel it even in the way that he was tormented.

 

He’d be done soon, and hopefully, by then, Kaneki would’ve been able to sniff him out.

 

A click to the television drew Hide’s attention towards Ayato, who fashioned the screen, until it revealed a dimly lit room.  His swollen eye fastened  itself upon the room, where in the center, sat a figure on a chair. He could hear from the aged system, the sound of gasping, of limbs struggling against chains much like his own, though their movements were far more frantic and erratic.

 

Far more helpless.

 

There suddenly came a horrendous cackle that echoed from the darkness, though revealed itself to belong to a white clad individual, who fancied from what Hide could discern, a ski mask, and in a lifted arm, a pair of pliers.

 

The sound of dead bark crunching erupted from the man’s burly fingers, as he popped them at their joints. The bony noise ensued a band of panicked wails and pleas. The voice,  at the peak of dread, sounded oddly familiar. Familiar enough to be recognized even by a near delusional Hide.

 

“K-Kaneki…?”   
  
Ayato chuckled darkly. He was actually getting a positive reaction, “Oh yeah, this is Kaneki  _before_ he was tortured, you know, the Kaneki you used to know? What, he hasn’t told you what happened yet? As his best friend, you should’ve known—I mean, _everybody_ else did.”

 

Hide's heart dropped into his stomach as the feeling of insecurity began to surge throughout his body. 

Who was everyone else? The other ghouls? They’d been the one’s to save him, hadn’t they? They’d been the ones to be there for him, after his torment with Aogiri, hadn’t they? Hide hadn’t, he’d been puzzled at Kaneki’s sudden disappearance, too weak to actually interfere personally.

 

He could only sit and wait until he’d contacted the CCG, when then, he could make a move. But for that entire time, he’d done nothing—he could  _do_ nothing. He was weak. And if the screaming from the television didn’t prove that, he had no idea what else did.

 

The ghouls had helped Kaneki heal immediately. Hide could only patch the wounds that they’d mended.

 

Hide’s heart thudded hard against his chest, and suddenly, a jolt of pain surged throughout his body as Kaneki’s screams began to blare through the screen. He was  losing his cool. As his emotions began to surge, the mental pain repellent began to wear off, and he was suddenly aware of just how fucked up he was.

 

Hide made to cover his ears, because the shrill was heart wrenching. But as his hands lifted to cup his ears, a chain jerked on each of his wrists.

 

Before he’d even had the time to register the ghoul’s actions, Ayato had managed to restrain Hide once again.

 

Frantic, he turned towards the teen, who returned  his gaze with a malicious smirk.

He was getting a reaction! The human was finally showing fucking  _emotion._ The pain was evident in his face, he watched as he winced with every clip of Yamori’s pliers.

 

Before Ayato knew it, the man had become entranced with the catastrophe on the television.

 

Smirking, he turned on his heel and left the room.

OOOOOO

It was nearing a week and two days since Hide had gone missing, and if Kaneki’s hair hadn’t already been white, the level of stress that the absence of his friend had burdened him with certainly would’ve changed it’s color.

 

They’d been searching every single Aogiri base they could get their hands on since he’d gone missing.

 

Kaneki remembered the scene from the evening that he had  stepped into Hide’s apartment. It had been ransacked, the sign of struggle very evident. Though that wasn’t the only obviously thing amiss about the apartment. The scent of Ayato Kirishima hung  about the area like the scent of decay after death.

 

He wondered if Ayato had dispersed his scent on purpose, to irk Kaneki. Though he figured his motives for leaving his scent had been for a more strategical reason. He’d taken Hide, check. And he wanted to be found. 

 

And the fact that he wanted to be found is what terrified Kaneki.

 

Touka’s brat of a brother never took too kindly to being made a fool out of, so it was only plausible that he held a grudge over Kaneki for breaking half of his body. But to drag Hide into the mess as revenge? Kaneki  doubted that Ayato would seriously hurt Hide, if anything, he’d give him a quick scare. Nothing to gruesome, he just wanted to rile him up—wanted to rile them both up.

 

Though if he did happened to hurt Hide, Kaneki would kill him.  Touka’s brother or not.

 

The chase was nearing the level of annoyance.  It seemed as if Ayato had marked numerous bases just to stall them. Even with Tsukiyama and Banjo working with him, searching the base up and down took hours, and he was running out of day light.  

 

And though he’d forced himself to believe that Ayato wouldn’t seriously injure Hide, if provoked, a brat would do anything, and Hide had a crude sense of humor when it came to certain situations.

 

Groaning as the neared the entrance of the last base they’d be searching for the evening, Kaneki’s fingers clenched around the plastic object he held in his hand. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled its sweet aroma.

 

They were Hide’s headphones.

 

When he’d arrived a Hide’s demolished living quarters, nothing had been spared the wrath of Ayato, or so he’d thought. Salvaging what was left of the wreckage, he’d managed to find the orange headphones, a key signature of Hide’s character.

 

He felt that the headphones made Hide who he was, that they were his own personal watermark. That if anything changed….

 

Grumbling to himself out of pure agitation, he threw the headphones around his neck, and ventured into the concrete establishment.

 

OOOOOOO

An hour into the search, Kaneki debated on whether or not he should return later on. The scent of not just Ayato—but Naki had been pungent in the area. So much that Tsukiyama had ventured off on his own to clash with his incompetent nemesis.

 

This left Kaneki and Banjo to patrol the top level of the building, where they were met with an assortment of doors. Judging by their inward appearances, this was a resident hall of some sort. He assumed this that was  where they  kept prisoners , as they’d found no cells or anything of the sort on the below level, and Tsukiyama hadn’t reported anything from the middle floor.

 

So both men cautiously looked into each of the rooms, checking for any signs of life.

 

Banjo reserved himself to sticking by Kaneki’s side, aiding as potential back up if  a threat ensued. Though obviously, he’d be the one protecting Banjo if anything went awry.

 

And speaking of awry things, Kaneki’s ears perked up as a eerie tune seemed to seep from underneath one of the closed doors on their level.

 

He stopped mid stride, causing Banjo to stop beside him.

 

“Kaneki, what’s the m-”   
  
“Do you hear that? Wait…do you smell that?”   
  
Presented  firstly to him as sweet perfume, the scent that smelled so much of Hide, without much warning, morphed into a disgusting odor that seemed to have been infected with the stench of others.  The sensation that came with smelling others on Hide was indescribable, though if Kaneki could sum it up into one word, it would have been fury.

 

His aggressive nature peaked immediately, and like a shark drawn to blood, the dark clad ghoul found himself before the door, where the tune melted away into a movement of spine-chilling wails that seemed strangely familiar to Kaneki.

 

He didn’t hesitate when he threw the door off of its hinges.

 

When he stepped into room, his eyes adjusted themselves to the darkness. However, he could not say the same for his nose. No amount of nasal preparation, or adjustment could have prepared him for the disgusting  odors that had accumulated in that one room.

 

The stench was so terrible, that it had nearly blinded him. Blood, and semen, and flesh, and piss of both human and ghoul had wedged themselves into the very fibers of the dim atmosphere, so much that Kaneki had to fight the urge to vomit.

 

 

And somewhere,  in the midst of it all, was Kaneki’s sunflower.

 

His sight returned to him the moment he forced himself to adopt the scent into the crevices of his mind, and focus on the only scent that had actually mattered to him.

 

Though his sight hadn’t been all that had returned to him after his bout of confusion. His hearing suddenly registered the painful wailing, and the devilish cackling, and the torturous counting that all belonged to him.

 

He saw the television before he saw Hide, and paled at the events that were being repeated. It was him on the screen, he had been screaming. Only, things were difference, his hair for instance, was black. Not to mention, back then, he was weak, and a terrible excuse for a ghoul.

 

Not to mention, since then, he’d certainly put on a few more pounds—or so he’d hoped. It certainly would’ve been—

 

There was a jolt of thick chains behind him, and suddenly, his head whipped around to locate the source of the noise.

 

At that moment,his heart stopped beating—in fact, time itself seemed to halt as the ghoul ran towards the mess in chains.

 

“H-Hide…” Kaneki breathed, as his knees skidded to the ground, and his arms stretched outwards to envelop the blond. But as quickly as he made to touch him, he retracted his hands.

 

He…he didn’t want to cause anymore damage.

 

From his position on the ground, entangled in the metal binds which protruded from the ground, granting him little mobility, Kaneki could see clearly the damage done to his body.

 

He sat upright, slouched, legs in front, and head down so that his chin touched his chest.

 

Hide’s legs had been twisted the wrong way, both of them. In fact, twisted had been an understatement. They’d been broken beyond repair. 

 

And the pants—or what was left of them—covered the bruised legs the best they could. And even they had their fair soak of blood, and….Kaneki’s stomach flipped in disgust, at the sight of the crisp, dried patches of fluids on Hide’s pants.

 

What the hell had they done to him.

 

His arms…they were practically encrusted in a new layer of scab and sweat, so much, that Kaneki could hardly see the skin. Though upon closer inspection, he realized that the repugnant growth upon his arms had indeed been his skin, only swollen and infected.

 

Hide’s breathing was slow and shallow, and had it not been for Kaneki’s ears, he never would’ve heard a heart beat. He debated on whether or not he should examine Hide’s chest area himself, but feared what lay beneath the torn blouse.

 

Banjo had finally entered the room, and like Kaneki, had been moved by the stench. Though upon seeing his charge on the ground, kneeling beside the body of his best friend, he quickly asked for directions.

 

Within seconds, Banjo had seized the chains with an unnatural grace, and had snapped them out of the cement ground. They still clung to Hide’s wrist, though now, at least, Kaneki could carry him. And though  he walked carefully with Hide dangling in his arms, he wasn’t slow in his stride to leave the facility.

 

Before he exited the room, the blond managed to let small words escape from his mouth. Kaneki paused in shock. His body had been so destroyed, how on earth had he managed to even speak?   
  
“I..i’m s-sorry…should’ve….protected…” 

The shrill from the television caught Kaneki off guard, though it had been easy that moment to connect two and two. Ayato had forced Hide to watch Kaneki’s torture, no doubt shoving lies down his throat.

 

That fucker. Touka’s brother or not, he’d be Kaneki’s next meal.

 

No telling what Hide was thinking now. Kaneki already knew how he felt about their entire situation, how he hated himself for not helping Kaneki more. It had taken them months to get to where they were, months for Hide to forgive himself for things he hadn’t needed forgiveness for.

 

If this took them back into the dark ages…

 

More “sorries” erupted from the chapped lips and cracked voice, and before Kaneki knew it, tears were streaming out of Hide’s swollen eyes. His voice hitched as he struggled to breath, and he winced as his body began to shudder as a sob forced its way through his system.

 

“Shh, Hide,” the tranquility in Kaneki’s voice was obviously forced, as the sight of his friend disturbed him far too much to level his voice at the moment, “It’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  
“…K..aneki…i’m…so…” Kaneki increased his pace the moment Hide’s eyes dwindled shut. Giving Banjo the command to search for Tsukiyama and let him know that their mission had been completed, Kaneki exited the establishment.

 

OOOOO

After practically shattering Hide’s legs and reverting them back to their normal position, the doctors had finally moved on to the more pressing matters of his condition. His arms had indeed been infected with a troublesome agent that took hours to control. At least the head trauma wasn’t as serious as the rest of the body. Though his forehead, much like his arms, had been subjected to several coats of gauze.

Evidence of sexual assault were clearly evident, and the doctor had suggested counseling to Kaneki as a means for Hide to heal from the torture in general.

 

His attitude after his surgeries, and after he’d finally woken had suggested he’d been traumatized. He hadn’t even spoken to the doctors who’d saved his life.

 

It hadn’t been until they’d allowed Kaneki into the room that Hide showed actual emotion.

 

Where Kaneki meant to ask about his condition, Hide had beat him to the speaking, and like before, had muttered a series of broken apologies. Even as Kaneki pulled him into a gentle hug and tried to calm him, Hide would not stop apologizing.

 

He apologized for everything. For the incident with Rize, for the incident with Nishiki, for his torture at the hands of Yamori—for everything, things that he had no part in, things that Ayato had most likely drilled into his head.

 

Aside from the false blame, Hide had accumulate a new sense of self-hate that seemed to come with his current condition.

 

“I hate…i hate myself..for not being able to…to save you…” He’d muttered, “I’m a terrible f-friend.”   
  
Kaneki found no point in telling Hide otherwise. He’d been doing that for at least an hour. Telling him that nothing had been his fault, that Kaneki loved him more than anything, and that he was perfect for Kaneki.

 

But nothing, not one thing seemed to get through his thick skull.

 

He spent the remainder of his time there cradling Hide’s head into his chest after the blond had been seized by a crying spell. Gentle fingers stroked Hide’s dry hair, and the other held the thin body securely to his.

 

Kaneki had crawled on the bed when Hide had drifted into a painful sleep. Not wanting to break him, the ghoul kept his hands to himself, and only lay beside him, allowing Hide’s scent to rock him to sleep.

 

Though with the plastic headphones still around his neck, resting of any sort was near impossible. He considered removing them, but their symbolism prevented him from doing so.

 

Hide had been ruined like the rubble in his apartment, though Kaneki prayed that he could find a piece—anything that could draw Hide out of his hysteria. He prayed even more that the hysteria was a temporary thing, and not a permanent ideal that had been imposed on his blond.

 

Though for now, Kaneki slept, or tried to. In the morning, he’d salvage through what was left of Hide, through use of his words and affections. Then hopefully, he’d have his sunflower back.

 

As for Ayato…he’d deal with him later on.

**Author's Note:**

> I know many of you are wondering why Hide couldn’t feel pain. There’s actually a scientific reason. I’m going to try my best to explain it, it’s been a whie… In a situation where your body needs to survive, and you injure yourself, your body can coat the receptors that carry the signals to the brain that cause pain, so that you can survive until you find help, when help comes, you’re brain goes back to normal.
> 
> It’s a human “pain” killer. And the Hide already has a high pain tolerance.
> 
> Though I think losing your cool is enough to mess up your brain chemistry. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, and God bless!


End file.
